


Rude Boy

by cassiopeia221B



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Body Shots, Coming In Pants, Drunkenness, Freebatch - Freeform, In Public, M/M, RPF, Truth or Dare, jealous Martin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 12:42:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5585803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiopeia221B/pseuds/cassiopeia221B





	Rude Boy

“That’s not fair, you keep picking the truth,“ Martin whines, yanking back in his seat with an annoyed frown upon his face. “You’re no fun tonight, Benedict,“ he sighs loudly.

“So now I am _Benedict_ again?“ Ben snorts, scowling at the glass in his hand with a mild reluctance, almost as if he was hesitant to take yet another sip. It would be about a twentieth that night, he thinks, or maybe he’s just stopped counting once Martin undid the upper two buttons of his shirt, complaining that it was too hot. It’s just too impossible to concentrate on anything but the alluring sight of Martin’s exposed neck and a patch of chest that’s peeking from beneath his unbuttoned collar. Ben catches himself _gazing_ , and yet he doesn’t bother to avert his eyes. Especially not once realising that Martin is doing exactly the same - staring at Ben’s long, pale neck with sort of an animalistic need, his piercing, hungry eyes sparkling in the dim light of lava lamps.

Ben’s mind is suddenly full of the most inappropriate thoughts. At least he thinks they’re inappropriate, oblivious to the fact that Martin has been shamelessly mentally undressing him for a solid half an hour already. It doesn’t seem to matter to him they’re in public.

“Are we still playing this highly entertaining game or you want to spend the rest of the night gaping at me like this, _Ben_ ,“ Martin pipes up all of a sudden, snapping Ben out of fantasising about the taste of Martin’s lips.

“What? Of-of course we are. It’s not _me_ who’s grumbling about the rules all the time,“ Ben objects, quickly brushing off all those vivid, filthy images.

“You keep protesting but I don’t remember you picking _dare_ either,“ he remarks after a moment, putting his glass aside one the table, cheeky half-smirk crossing his lips.

Martin gasps, flashing Ben an affronted glance. “I-I was just being-“

“What?“ Ben arches an eyebrow, smiling victoriously.

“Oh, shut up. _Fine_ , as you wish. I choose _dare_ this time,“ Martin groans, surrendering quite easily, Ben thinks.  

“Oh, no, no, first you must ask, remember? _Truth_ ,“ Ben reminds him, picking up his glass again before leaning back against the cushion, sprawled quietly indecently all with his legs parted and collar undone.

Martin rolls his eyes. “Come on, what _else_ you want me to ask you? I already know more than enough. Unless-“ Martin bites his lip, “unless there’s something specific you want me to ask.“

“It’s up to _you_ ,“ Ben shrugs, quite a suggestive smile hidden behind the rim of his glass that he’s just lifted to his lips. Martin takes time to think of a spicy enough question, his brow furrowed in a deep thought, tongue running briskly over his lower lip before all of a sudden, a wide triumphal smile splits his face.

“I can’t believe I’ve almost passed this opportunity to ask you, Benny,“ he chuckles dryly, taking a long gulp of his drink. At the sight of Martin’s naughty, malicious smirk Ben immediately regrets his choice to give that man a chance to ask another question.

“Oh God, this is going to be fucking dirty, right?“ he titters, nervously wetting his lips.

“Depends on _what_ you consider dirty,“ Martin teases. “I could ask you about your first blowjob but this here is even  _more_ relevant to my interests,“ he sniggers before leaning forward slowly, folding his arms over the table.

“Ever had _sex_ with a man?“ he wiggles his eyebrows, emphasising the crucial word.

Ben’s eyes fly wide open. He jerks forward like a fired bullet, nearly choking on the liquid he was about to swallow the moment Martin dropped his question.

“Fuck, Martin –“ he growls out of his breath, his face as red as a cherry.

“Are you okay?“

“I am fine, I am fine,“ Ben nods after a couple of moments, still panting but no longer coughing. “I think... I – I think I’d rather answer that about my first blowjob, if I have to be honest,“ he replies at last, once finally coming to himself.

“Oh no, you said it’s up to _me_ ,“ Martin reminds him. “So? Has there ever been a man in your life?“

Ben opens his mouth again, prepared to raise another objection but after a moment of reconsideration, he rather decides against it. Telling a lie would be pointless anyway, Martin can already read him like an open book and besides, Ben’s inhibitions are lowered enough for him to not care as much as he would if he was sober.

“ _Yes_ ,“ he mumbles at last, his cheeks turning crimson again but this time due to sheer embarrassment. Ben risks a glance at Martin, expecting a pleased, smug smirk and that’s exactly what he sees once he lifts up his eyes. Martin’s expression is that of a cat that’s just got all the cream.

“ _Stop_ ,“ Ben huffs, crossing his arms. “Yes, I’ve experimented a bit at school, _so what_?“

“ _Experimented_?“ Martin chuckles. “That’s how you call it?“

Ben shakes his head, reaching to pick up the glass that slipped off his hand once after Martin's question sent him into coughing fit. “Look, I’ve answered your question. You don’t have to know the details, do you?“ he retorts. “Besides… I reckon there’s something you’ve promised me, haven’t you? Have you changed your mind already?“

“Never,“ Martin grunts in laughter. “There’s nothing you can propose that I wouldn’t do.“

“We’ll see,“ Ben smiles amusedly. It takes him quite a long time to come up with a task that Martin would never agree to do, or at least _Ben_ thinks he’d never do it. Maybe he even hopes, although he must admit to himself that he’s quite torn between two vastly different desires.

“Are you done yet?“ Martin asks, his fingers absently rubbing around the rim of his already empty glass.

“Well, yes, indeed,“ Ben clears his throat, his voice raising up so Martin can hear him over the music that’s just started playing louder.

“I dare you to –“ he freezes for a moment, biting his lips almost guiltily, “I dare you to take a shot off my body,“ he splutters, immediately glancing away shyly.

“W-What?“

Ben pouts. “You heard me.“

“Yes I did,“ Martin grins in astonishment. “I just can’t believe.“

“What? You have no guts to do it?“ Ben taunts, deep down hoping that Martin would nod in agreement. It’s quite a dangerous path Ben decided to walk.

“Aw, please, of course I _have_ , Ben. I just can’t believe that _you_ are bold enough to. I mean, no offence, but you just dodged a couple of rather _innocent_ questions and yet-“

“ _That’s_ something entirely different, Martin,“ Ben protests, sulking. “Besides, _those_ weren’t exactly innocent questions,“ he adds with a raised finger. Up until now he’s been ready to back-pedal any second but Martin's determination has persuaded him into taking the risk.

“But you _do_ realise, what all of that involves, right?“ Martin asks, cocking his head to the side, tiny, playful smirk on his lips.

“Of course, I wasn’t born yesterday,“ Ben snorts. “So, should I lay down or-“ Ben’s voice halts at the sight of Martin’s tantalising glare, one that foretells nothing pleasant, or at least, that’s what Ben believes.

“What if you lay down on the bar over there, hm?“ Martin suggests, mischievous sparks bouncing in his eyes as he beckons toward the other end of the room. Ben blinks in confusion, almost as if he didn’t hear although each of Martin’s word was loud and clear.

“You-you can’t be serious, there are _people_ , Martin,“ Ben points out, eyes following the trajectory of Martin’s gaze. Having a private little corner all for themselves certainly has its advantages, no one can actually see or disturb them. Ben can only hardly imagine leaving the comfort of it, especially under such circumstances.

“Come on, this bloody posh place is half-empty anyway,“ Martin insists. “Besides, I assume that none of what happens here ever gets out. I doubt they will take any photos.“

Ben wavers for another minute or two before finally scrambling up to his feet. “ _Fine_. It’s your turn anyway, so let’s make it over with.“

He strides across the dance floor albeit a bit too tipsy so his steps are rather clumsy but with Martin right behind his heels he doesn’t even mind.

“Is everyone staring already?“

“Just a couple of girls checking you out,“ Martin huffs. Ben could swear he heard a tone of jealousy in his unusually raspy voice but he could’ve as well just imagined it. As soon as they reach the bar Martin orders two shots of tequila but before they actually manage to proceed the music gets louder and suddenly they’re surrounded by not only a couple of girls but pretty much the entire room gathers around them, asking them for photos and signs.

“So no photos, eh?“ Ben raises an eyebrow, leaning closer to speak into Martin’s ear. Martin tries to ignore the rush of shivers crawling down his spine once Ben’s velvet voice rings in his ear but his own body betrays him.

“I-I didn’t expect _any_ of this,“ he replies, his tongue dry in his mouth, eyes pinned upon Ben’s parted lips. “It must be your fault,“ he clears his throat awkwardly, quickly glancing away, quipping instead of staring. “ _You_ are so bloody famous in this town that you can’t even walk into a club without being mobbed.“

Ben is about to retort but someone’s just stick a camera in his face so he has to try mustering up a smile genuine enough to not look like a twat in the photo. But after a couple of such wry smiles and another couple of drinks, it becomes quite annoying and yet people are coming for more and more, laughing and squeaking obnoxiously, the music becomes even louder and both Martin and Ben are groggy enough already to lose the awareness of some of their actions. Martin is perhaps better in handling it and yet, once he notices two drunken women that are obviously making Ben uncomfortable, something clicks inside him, something furious and wild. He doesn’t hesitate interfering despite knowing that he has absolutely no right claiming Ben’s attention. It’s an impulse, a sudden urge to protect Ben and keep him by his side. Martin doesn’t even care what kind of an impression he’s going to give off once acting like an utterly jealous boyfriend, he steps forth, his mere presence spurring both women to back away immediately.

“Hey, having fun?“ he asks, faking a smile but his cold, stern eyes are enough of an evidence that he wishes for all those people to disappear and leave Ben alone. Both women apologise in an instant, turning over their heels hastily, but it does not go without furtive glances and sneering.

“What was that about?“ Ben asks, quite a silly but pleased smile hanging upon his face.

“They were bothering you,“ Martin snarls. “I did not – God, what are you –“ It must be because he’s so wasted, Martin thinks. Because a sober Ben would never trail his lips softly across Martin’s cheek up toward his ear, he certainly wouldn’t carefully nibble on Martin’s sensitive earlobe in front of all those people, he _definitely_ wouldn’t press himself against Martin, gently grasping his hips.

“I've just realised we forgot about something,“ Ben purrs, his voice sinfully low and smooth like a warm melted chocolate.

“F-forgot? About what?“ Martin gets quite a rapid answer. It takes time until his dizzy brain comprehends but as soon as Ben jumps up on the bar he perceives.

“I _dare_ you, Martin,“ Ben sniggers once already lying down, his head titled backwards so he can look at Martin. Martin is only vaguely aware of the music hammering in his ears, of colourful lights flickering in the distance, of girls and women and even a couple of men cheering, guffawing hysterically and crowing Ben’s name while trying to get closer to him. It’s all blurry silhouettes and incoherent buzzing but Ben… Martin can see Ben clearly and the sight is simply paralysing.

“Don’t make me beg you,“ Ben mewls, teasingly tucking his shirt up and so revealing a patch of pale, flat stomach. Martin believes he must be actually drooling and yet he couldn’t care less. Someone - probably a bartender, Martin can’t be sure – just put a slice of lime in between Ben’s lips before pouring tequila into his belly button and sprinkling salt around the rim of it.

“Come _on_ , Martin,“ Ben murmurs in anticipation, biting down on the lime wedge with a sour smirk.

“Oh, Jesus, you think I need goading?“ Martin groans, quickly leaning closer before bending down to lick a stripe across Ben’s belly. Martin has never heard a noise as hot and desperately eager as the moan that flees from Ben’s throat. Regardless of dozens of eyes watching them, he whimpers against Ben’s soft skin, licking wet traces, leaving small huffs of hot air along with a string of sloppy open-mouthed kisses all over his stomach. If this is how they’re going to break the ice between them after years of restraining, so be it, Martin thinks, not complaining at all even though they’re both so drunk and giddy they might not even remember half of it in the morning.

Martin is so high on arousal and the noises Ben’s making he would probably forget about the shot he’s supposed to take if it wasn’t for Ben himself who points him toward it. Sucking the liquor off Ben’s belly button takes him almost as much time as licking off the salt, he can’t but savour the delicious taste of Ben’s skin for as long as he’s allowed. Ben is squirming beneath him, giggling and whimpering quietly, probably not even fully aware of what’s actually happening and yet he seems to be completely blissed out. This time it’s Martin who pulls back first, his tongue so thirstily darting out of his mouth once his gaze falls upon the lime in between Ben’s teeth. As if the mere notion of locking their lips like this wasn’t enough, Ben closes his eyes and arches his neck prompting Martin to hurry up. It’s not like Martin _needs_ to be prompted.

Ben doesn’t even have to see Martin’s face. Despite the music pounding in the background, he can hear Martin’s quickened, heavy breathing right before Martin bows down, taking the wedge out of Ben’s mouth, his lips lingering for much longer than necessary.

“God, Martin – “ Ben’s words morph into a muffled groan once Martin chains their lips again, kissing him with a burning, ferocious passion, slipping his tongue in between Ben’s lips right before pulling back and raising his voice.

“Another one!“

Two glasses are all Ben and Martin can take without actually undressing each other in front of witnesses so once sharing another messy kiss they both wobble toward their little dark corner again. Martin closes the curtain behind them before crumbling down on the couch next to Ben, limbs tangled and both of them snorting in uncontrollable laughter.

“I – I have no idea what just happened, but –but, _fuck_ I feel so high,“ Ben giggles, cheeks flushed and sweat building up on his body, heat is practically radiating off him.

“We’ve just made out in front of everyone – I think,“ Martin chuckles, leaning against Ben’s shoulder. “You taste good,“ he nudges Ben’s arm, bursting into a low-pitched laugh again before wetting his upper lip and glancing up at Ben from under his lashes. “Truth or – or - what was it? _Fuck-“_

“Dare,“ Ben blurts out. “But we might fuck as well if you want – “

Martin’s eyebrows fly so high that Ben can’t help but snicker again. “Come on, I wasn’t being serious you prick-“

“Mhm, what a shame,“ Martin sighs. Ben can’t tell whether he’s just pretending disappointment or he’s seriously let down. “Even though –“

“Even though _what_ , Martin?“

“Well, you just picked the dare,“ Martin sing-songs.

“Wha –we’re not playing anymore, Martin.“

“F’course we are,“ Martin mumbles, lazily slouching down in his seat so he ends up half-lying on the couch, unclasping his legs in a horribly obscene manner. “So, I dare you to – to – give me a-“

Ben swallows hard, his drunken brain might not fully serve its purpose in these moments and yet he can tell that Martin must be thinking of something quite nasty, gesturing in the air like this. Ben catches himself unable to draw a breath until Martin finally finishes his sentence.

“ _Lap dance_.“

“L-lap dance?“ Ben quirks an eyebrow. It’s quite a relief he has to admit. He wouldn’t put it past Martin to suggest something much less innocent in such a state and what’s worse, under these conditions Ben probably wouldn’t even hesitate to fulfill any of his wishes. At the cost of feeling ashamed of himself in the morning. Maybe, however, just maybe he wouldn’t even regret it, Ben can’t be even sure anymore.

“You do realise that I’ve never done this, right? It might be a pretty rubbish experience.“ he chortles.

“Yeah, _sure_ ,“ Martin waves his hand as if he wasn’t even listening to Ben, waiting for a moment before his lips curl up into a devastatingly seductive smirk. “Come here, _rude boy_.“

This time it’s Ben whose eyebrows rise in a mild confusion, he’s well aware of his mouth hanging open so stupidly and yet he somehow can’t bring himself to shut it.

“Don’t you hear? They’ve started playing _just_ for _you_ ,“ Martin smiles cheekily, clearly referring to the song that just came on although Ben took his time comprehending.

“Oh, right. But _you_ aren’t exactly a Rihanna’s fan, are you?“ Ben quips, tittering but not wasting any more time to shift and straddle Martin’s thighs. He immediately reaches to grasp Martin shoulders to support himself before he rolls his hips, once, twice, swaying at first slowly almost as if he was shy, but once he gets used to the vivacious rhythm he doesn’t hold back anymore.

“Could you stop biting your lip, it’s distracting,“ Martin groans, glaring up at Ben as if he was about to soon devour him with his eyes.

“Oh, so, _that_ is distracting? Really, Martin, really?“ Ben teases, suddenly much more confident of his own movements as he rocks his hips back and forth in a hypnotising, languid pace, just a couple of inches above Martin’s crotch. He repositions his arms, wrapping them around Martin’s neck before leaning in, husky, deep chuckle resonating in his chest as he growls in Martin’s ear, repeating the words of the song.

_Tonight I'm a let it be fire, tonight I'm a let you take me higher_

“God, Ben-“ Martin is trying to ignore the heat that’s quickly building up between his legs. And yet each of Ben’s movements is making him quite convinced that he’s about to come in his pants very soon. But although he can’t even remember how on Earth they ended up like this he can hardly complain.

_Tonight Baby we can get it on, yeah we can get it on, yeah_

Ben suddenly lowers himself down in Martin’s lap, moaning breathlessly right into his ear once he grinds against him for the first time, creating aching friction between their still clothed cocks that are so uncomfortably trapped in their already ruined pants. Ben didn’t even realise it at first but Martin has grasped his hips, pulling him closer, urging him to hump his lap.

“Do you like it boy?“ it’s provocative, Ben should not even be allowed to say such a thing aloud, especially not in such a rough voice, Martin thinks, yet Ben seems to be pleased with the reaction. He keeps on thrusting against Martin’s groin, moaning and groaning loud and naughtily. And that neck, God, Ben is doing that on purpose, Martin is sure of it. He’s been lusting after that neck for such a long time and despite being so drunk that he is barely aware enough of his surroundings, he certainly didn’t forget. He stretches up to kiss and suck on that beautifully glistening skin that tastes so perfectly on his tongue, licking down Ben’s throat and chest until Ben decides to pull back.

“Why are you – _Jesus Christ_ ,“ Martin’s disappointed growl fades into a long, gravelly groan as he watches Ben’s long fingers working to unbutton his already crumpled, dishevelled shirt. Strip-tease is certainly not what Martin expected once he’d dared Ben to dance in his lap, but it’s a nice delicate bonus. The only thing Martin’s afraid of is that once he’s sober he’s not going to remember every single second of this magnificent show.

Ben lets the cloth to fall of his shoulders, keeping it on hanging loosely off his swinging body before reaching to unbuckle his belt, not for a second taking a pause from rolling his hips. For a moment, Martin catches himself wondering when exactly Ben decided to shed off his clothes but he soon perceives again once Ben lazily rubs his hands all over Martin’s chest.

_Come here rude boy, boy can you get it up_

_Come here rude boy, boy is you big enough_

It’s happening all too fast, Martin can’t even decide whether to focus on Ben’s deft fingers unzipping his jeans or Ben’s rolling pelvis that’s bringing him so close to climax as Ben rocks and rubs their erections, so desperate for more intimate contact. Maybe Martin should focus on Ben’s full, firm lips, that sinful voice rumbling and vibrating against the skin of his neck, maybe on his own hands sliding up and down Ben’s exposed sweaty chest or maybe he can as well close his eyes and relax, savouring those blissful ecstatic moments leading to his orgasm.

_Take it, take it, baby, baby take it, take it_

_Love me, love me_

Martin is immensely glad that no one can see them this time. He would certainly loathe sharing the sight at Ben’s hips bucking forward frantically before he comes with a loud cry and Martin’s name on his lips, not even thinking about stopping not until Martin comes too.

“Oh my God, Ben, fuck yes _, yeah_ –“ Martin’s head falls back against the cushion, heart pounding in his chests and music drumming in his ears, mouth hanging open in a silent moan and the grip on Ben’s waist tightening right before the tension finally fades out and the hot rush of pleasure flushes throughout Martin’s entire body, tingling and shivering in the best possible way.

Martin blinks to open his eyes, the sight of Ben’s drunken, blissed out smile being the first thing he sees. It’s not until he catches his breath again that he dares to speak. “Do you – do you have any idea how the _bloody hell_ all _that_ hap-happened?“ he manages to keep a straight face for about three seconds before bursting into silly breathy giggles, pulling Ben closer to steal himself a kiss off those irresistibly parted lips.

“No idea,“ Ben shakes his head squirming in Martin’s lap before sneaking his arms around his collar again. “Just as I have no idea why are you kissing me right now,“ he murmurs, leaning in so close they noses brush.

Martin’s brow furrows as if he was pondering really hard about it but his mind is just too clogged.

“I don’t know. Your lips are just so – so _kissable_ ,“ he growls, grabbing Ben by the small of his back, keeping him down in his lap.

“But let me tell you – coming in my pants is certainly _not_ what I was aiming for when I invited you for a drink tonight. Shit, last time that happened I was… eight-eighteen?“

“Well, I didn’t plan on putting my tongue down your throat either and yet-“ Ben snickers before doing just _that_ , drawing a surprised groan out of Martin’s throat before he pushes inside and twirls and rubs his tongue against Martin’s own, kissing him sloppily, just so filthy and eager. It’s not until now that Martin feels _truly_ drunk, drunk on Ben’s intoxicating taste, smell and body, drunk on _Ben_ himself.

“Mhm, God, if we won’t leave right now I am afraid I might push you down and tear all these clothes off you right _here_ ,“ he whimpers, eyes filled with need and lust gliding down Ben’s bare torso.

“Well, well, who’s a _rude boy_ now, hm?“ Ben giggles, caressing the nape of Martin’s neck, teasingly tilting his head from side to side as his lips hover a mere inch away from Martin’s.

“Still _you_.“ Martin smirks, that sort of a subtle half-smirk that sets Ben’s entire self on fire again. He leans in for a lascivious kiss, full of desire but love as well and in that moment nothing else matters but that. And even if they might not remember all of what happens that night, neither of them minds because despite everything, it’s still the present that counts.


End file.
